


East and West

by fauxpromises



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bittersweet, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, F/M, Guilt, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxpromises/pseuds/fauxpromises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never the twain shall meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	East and West

**Author's Note:**

> Some names are used here out of necessity. My RED Spy's always been named Reynard. I just can't write a couple in a relationship while still using class identifiers and still maintain any sense of reality.

Nudging a chunk of meat across the plate, the young man at the table heaved an overdramatic sigh. Her youngest son had always been prone to small fits of brooding interspersed in his normally overconfident exterior. She supposed he might have developed a sort of dual nature from his upbringing, the cocky runt of the litter with an uncertain mama's boy underneath.

"Enough of the theatrics for tonight, sweetheart," she chided gently, setting a pitcher of lemonade down at the dinner table. After so many years of a rowdy mess of children, it seemed odd to now be left with only her last boy. Even now he would be leaving her soon as well, if he wasn't still too attached to her apron strings.

He didn't answer her teasing with any of his usual self-assured banter. A much more genuine sigh escaped the dark-haired woman.

"Y'know, I don't think Andy had a date to senior prom either." She didn't look at him as she poured herself a glass of lemonade and sat down to her dinner. "It's nothin' to be ashamed of. Give it a few years and girls will be fightin' over a sweet boy like you."

His cheeks flushed slightly. "Ma, c'mon. Andy didn't care about nothin' but gettin' into that college. D'ya really have to make me feel _worse_ about it?"

"You're just like your father. Always—" She paused for a moment, catching herself. She tried to avoid the subject around the boys, but there were times that it slipped out, most so with this son in particular. Every so often it became possible to forget that they knew very little of the man that had sired them, very little save for an old picture in her bedroom and some stories. The wedding band she still wore around her finger only served to increase the occasional prying.

And like a slowly spreading disease, some secrets began to outlive their benefits. Secrets kept out of love were no exception.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Nevermind. It's nothin', just a sappy memory."

"No—wait." Her son had stopped stirring his food around idly, now looking up at her with intrigue. "What about Dad?"

"I...well," she began weakly. She did not normally hesitate—couldn't afford to when she had been the sole parent to a pack of children. "You just remind me 'a him at your age sometimes. Kinda awkward, but in the cute way."

Another rush of red to his face, returning to looking at his food. "Jeez, I should'a known better. I thought it would be somethin' cool like 'Dad was a total super badass just like you' or somethin'."

She smiled at her boy, the one closest to her heart if she were to be truly honest with herself. Her boy that always said goodbye, always helped her carry the groceries, always wanted to make her proud.

And as much as it made her happy, it broke her heart just a tiny bit more each time to know that his father wasn't there to share that sense of pride.

* * *

Her breathing was heavy once the peak of their intimacy had passed, her light form still tangled with his in a pose that told no lies of the slight desperation that characterized sex between them. Sometimes weeks had passed—occasionally a month or two. But it always started out with the same game. He would take his time in unclothing her, a territorial kiss that he had a tendency to dominate, and then somehow he would be the one telling her to keep the noise down before they woke the children up.

They remained in silence for a few moments; the world became lucid again as he waited to feel her body relax against his in a sign of satisfaction. He knew he was still too proud to admit how much he needed these long nights of passion between them, though he realized a confession did not always have to be in words.

She drew him out of his thoughts with a playful laugh, pulling the sheets more tightly around them to preserve warmth. "You're spacin' out again, Rey. Don't tell me I'm startin' to bore you."

A smirk played across his face as he shook his head. She had rested her head on his chest, her brown eyes hard to see in the dimly lit room. "Not at all. Only that I've wasted my energy in keeping _you_ entertained _,_ if you'll forgive me that."

Another tired chuckle resonated in her throat. He could feel the vibration of it from the closeness of their bodies. "Always a smartass. Your youngest is pickin' up on that, y'know—seven years old and talkin' back. He's gonna give you a run for your money someday."

When he gave no response, she sighed. "I ain't gonna lie, honey. You're always gonna hear about how much I wish they could seeya. I wouldn't think that if I didn't love you so damn much."

Still silence. The topic of their children had been one of contention from the very start, and though she had known she would be raising their offspring alone, it did not make the situation any easier to bear. It had been one reason why they never left Boston, as her sister had been a considerable help in keeping them managed. Though his income allowed her and the children to live comfortably, it was yet another thing she most certainly had to form lies about.

"You're not a bad father, y'know," she muttered quietly, and he shuddered slightly at the feeling of her breath against his throat. "I knew you couldn't be there for 'em like I would be. What you do keeps us fed, and if it's the thing you're good at, so be it."

He couldn't even begin to form the confession that was lurking in his heart. He had always been a good husband, protective and loyal—but father was not a word he could ever handle hearing someone call him. The thought of it petrified him with fear he wouldn't admit, least of all to the woman he adored.

And as much as he loved his sons, he knew that the love that lasted the longest was the one that was never returned.

* * *

_A seven-year-old boy crouched at the mouth of the alley, sniffling softly. He had tried to keep up with his siblings—he had promised his mother he wouldn't stray from them. But then he'd stumbled and fallen behind, his brothers no longer in sight.  
_

_Sam, secondborn and de facto deputy of their familial clan. He knelt down beside his brother, and the boy was expecting a rough teasing, but instead he was tugged gently to his feet._

_"Ricky, ya gotta be more careful. Ma'll never let me hear the end of it if you keep gettin' hurt like this," he scolded him quietly. His tone dropped lower when he saw the tears in his brother's eyes. "Hey, be tough like Dad was, right? Just pretend he's watchin' ya, make 'em proud and all."_

_He stood on shaky legs, ignoring the slight pain as his brother led him off. One day he_ was _gonna be tough and leave the rest of them in the dust._

His temper burned as he pursued the flash of red into the large shed. He figured the man had escaped by now, clever as he was despicable. The steel bat in his hand was thirsty for blood.

"You fuckin' coward!" he spat angrily, bringing the blunt end down on the wooden wall. "Stay the fuck _away_ from my Ma if y'know what's good for you!"

He felt sick and disgusted by the whole matter. Hadn't his Ma always said no one would replace his father? What the hell had this snake told her to change that so quickly?

And as much as the rage still burned in his chest, he knew there was little he could do to change what had already happened. His dad was probably dead, and Ma had found someone else—the last person on earth that he could approve of.

The man hiding around the corner knew something the young man did not. He swore under his breath as his enemy retreated back to the battlefield.

_We should never meet our heroes._


End file.
